


Flying Free

by DeandraAlleyan



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, Pining, straight talk from friends, thwarting advisers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25293637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeandraAlleyan/pseuds/DeandraAlleyan
Summary: All Eomer wants is some time to relax, but his advisers want to keep him caged in.  A visit to Dol Amroth provides unexpected aid in the form of Imrahil’s daughter, Lothiriel.
Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Lothíriel
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Three things:_
> 
> _Many of the stories I’m currently posting were my earlier stories, written quite some time ago and before I was very versed in Tolkien’s universe. Over time, I accumulated more knowledge. Where it was possible to reasonably do so, I tweak things to be more in line with canon. However, some details just can’t easily be fixed, so they will remain part of these stories._
> 
> _Additionally, the chapters tended to be shorter on the earlier stories, though I did try to make sure none were less than 3 pages._
> 
> _I started doing something a little different with this story. Before, I was using xxxxx to separate sections (a jump in the story). I still do that here, but you will also find xx, which is meant to be a mini-break within the main sections. The reason for that is the switch from seeing what’s going on at Point A, then looking at Point B, and then back to Point A. Not a lot of actual time (or a jump) is taking place, you are just getting to see a larger picture as you go along (sort of “meanwhile, back at the castle…” type of thing). Hope that makes sense._

**Chapter 1**

_Dol Amroth, March 3020_

Lothiriel awoke to the sound of gulls crying outside her window, as the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. As usual, the fishermen were up and around early, and the gulls did not miss any opportunity for easy food when it came their way.

She yawned and stretched, contemplating trying to sleep for another hour, but finally decided she was too awake for it to be likely she could drift off. Sitting up, she reached for a robe. The spring weather still brought cool mornings, even though she knew it would warm considerably as the day progressed.

Not bothering to call her maidservant, she brushed out her hair, leaving it hanging loose, and quickly donned a linen dress of a seafoam green color with dark green trim. Eyeing herself in the looking glass, she ran her hands down over the skirt of the dress. Though it was an attractive gown, it was more practical than showy. She would need to begin thinking differently now that the War was over. 

While her father and two of her brothers rode off to do their part in the battle, she and her eldest brother, Elphir, had remained in Dol Amroth, to rule the city and provide whatever defense they could along the coast. There had been much work then, and Lothiriel had readily pitched in and done whatever she could to aid her brother. Additionally, they were not isolated from danger and the House of Healing was in continual need of hands to help with injured men. She had stepped forward there, as well, learning as she went and becoming quite skilled in herbal treatments. 

Now, with the war ended, she was expected to return to the rather leisurely life of a noblewoman. Her daily tasks would include dressing elegantly so as to impress any visitors her father or brothers might have, run the Prince’s household in her deceased mother’s stead, and pursue the womanly domestic arts of embroidery and crafts. How very dull it all seemed.

She sighed deeply. It had felt good to truly be useful during wartime and she was finding it difficult to return to such a vacuous life. But it was the sort of life she was expected to live as the daughter of a Prince...and eventually as the wife of a nobleman. She knew her father was already considering likely suitors for her. Her status as the daughter of a prince, and an attractive one at that, made her a desirable companion for many men. All that remained was to find one who was both suitable and would provide sufficient reason for an alliance. She was not expected to love the man, though of course it was hoped in time she would come to care for him, and she accepted that it was her duty to form a marriage alliance that would be beneficial to her people. Still, she would wish to find love as well, as her cousin Faramir had.

Another sigh escaped her. She had finally had an opportunity to meet Faramir’s wife, and found her a bit intimidating. The women of Rohan, if Eowyn was representative, seemed very strongminded and capable. In many ways, Lothiriel envied her that. How she would love to have the nerve to kick over the traces now and then, and do exactly as she wished! But she had been too well schooled in decorum and proper courtly behavior. She knew she would never dare act in such a way.

Thoughts of Eowyn drew her mind to the woman’s brother, Eomer, who was now king of Rohan. Her father and brothers had spoken much of him since their return after the War, and again after they came back from attending Faramir’s wedding to his sister. She had intended to accompany them to the latter, indeed had looked forward to the trip to Minas Tirith, but Elphir’s wife gave signs that her travail was imminent, and she had reluctantly volunteered to remain and assist however she could. As a result, she had never met this king so much spoken of in her family. For that matter, she had not yet had a chance to meet her own new king, Elessar.

A fortnight ago her father had announced that Eomer would be coming to visit, and then the two of them were to travel to Minas Tirith via Emyn Arnen. Lothiriel had begged permission to accompany them, anxious to get to the city once more. She had begun to feel very isolated and out of touch with all that was happening, and hoped such an outing would bring her back into the stream of life in Gondor. So much had changed since Sauron’s defeat, and she had never had a chance to properly enjoy it yet.

Pulling her mind back to the here and now, she remembered that King Eomer was due to arrive today. If she wanted any time to herself, she had best get moving. Once his royal party arrived, she would be trapped into preparations for the welcoming celebration, and seeing him settled and entertained. _King Eomer._ For a time, with all Imrahil said, she had wondered if her father would choose to arrange a marriage alliance with Rohan. That subject had never come up, however, and she was a little relieved. Apparently her father was no more desirous of having her live so far away than she was to do so. Whomever she married, she hoped she could dwell near to her family all of her days.

Taking a shawl to wrap around her, she moved toward the door and made her way through the empty halls to the garden. In less than an hour, the place would be bustling with servants and couriers, but for the moment she could enjoy the quiet and solitude of her home. She slipped out into the early dawn sunlight, though the palace still blocked much of the sun’s rays and kept the garden in cool shadow. Shivering slightly, but enjoying the brisk sea air, she moved among the shrubs that were slowly unfolding new green foliage. Many of her bulbs had broken the ground and were now beginning to put forth greenery in preparation for flowering. Smiling happily to herself, she snugged her shawl closer around her. Spring was a lovely time of year, made all the better for the absence of Mordor’s darkness.

A sound to her right caught her unaware, and when she turned she was amazed to find a strange man in the garden. Cautiously, she turned to face him, uncertain what threat he might be.

For several moments, the two just stared at one another, but then he gave her a small smile, apparently realizing she was suspicious of him. “I am sorry. I did not mean to startle you. I did not think anyone else would be up just yet, but I have always been an early riser.”

Lothiriel’s eyes narrowed; he sounded like he thought he belonged in the Prince’s garden. “Who are you?” she asked cautiously. His clothes were non-descript – breeches and linen shirt. He did not even wear a tunic, but still seemed oblivious to the chill in the morning air.

The man smiled apologetically. “Forgive me, I forget my manners sometimes. I am Eomer. I am here visiting...your father?” He hazarded a guess as to whom he might be addressing. “Are you, perhaps, Lothiriel?”

 _Eomer...the king of Rohan?_ She was surprised by his informality. He did not even mention his title, though looking at him she would have been more likely to guess he was the king’s bodyguard than the king himself. The man was powerfully built and appeared more like one of the soldiers in the Swan Knights than a royal personage on a state visit.

Realizing she had become lost in her musings and not responded, she nodded, “Yes. I am Lothiriel. It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord. I did not think you were expected to arrive until today.” Without even thinking, she dropped into a curtsy.

Eomer’s face reflected his dismay at her response. With a somewhat pleading tone, he asked, “Please, can we not dispense with the formalities when we are out of the public eye? I am weary of all the bowing and scraping and ‘my lording’ I receive.” He gave a her a rueful, entreating look.

Against her will, she smiled and nodded, a slight blush tinging her cheeks. “Of course, my...Eomer. You must understand that old habits die hard. You will forgive me if I slip up and fawn over you?”

His laughter was deep and resonating. “Yes, I will forgive a few minor slip-ups, but do try to avoid them if you possibly can!” He paused and then asked hesitantly, “May I...call you Lothiriel?”

She smiled with pleasure. “You may. Indeed, my father and brothers have spoken of you so often, I feel as though I should already know you. I am happy to finally make your acquaintance. What brings you to our shores? Father said only that you would be visiting.”

Eomer turned and walked to a low wall around the garden, his hands clasped behind him. Turning to look at her over his left shoulder, he quirked an eyebrow skyward, “Would you know the truth or the official reason for my visit?”

Intrigued, she moved up beside him and responded, “Both!”

Grinning, he told her, “The official reason is to begin negotiations for trade routes. The true reason, though, is escape.” At the final word, his countenance sobered and he fell into his own thoughts.

She watched the expressions playing over his face and wondered what a king would need to escape from. But even as she thought it, she could guess the answer. Her father was a consummate diplomat, but after being away at war for many months, he had chafed upon his return, finding it difficult to settle back into the daily routine of meetings, paperwork and obsequious advisers. This man beside her belonged outdoors, under the sun and physically active. She could not envision him happily seated behind a desk for hours and days on end.

Lothiriel looked away, out across the sea spread below them. Perhaps she was not the only one trapped in an existence not of her choosing and preference. After several moments, she looked up at him appraisingly and asked, “Have you ever been to the sea before, Eomer?”

He pulled himself from his reverie and shook his head. With a smile, she took his arm and steered him toward some stairs that led down to the family’s private beach. “Then let me introduce you to life outside your prison walls!” she teased.

A surprised furrow appeared between his brows, but then smoothed as a pleased grin formed on his face. “Do we not need an escort of guards? Shall I be safe from attack, do you think?” he asked mockingly.

With a laugh, she solemnly nodded, “Quite safe! You are only in danger of enjoying yourself. I would not think you would want protection from that!”

xxxxx

Imrahil and his sons glanced up as King Eomer entered the dining hall, looking a bit windblown, but surprisingly cheerful. “Good morning, Eomer. I hope you slept well. I did not think to see you quite this early,” Imrahil greeted him.

“It is difficult to change one’s habits. My eored was always up and moving early, and I have not yet shaken the tendency to be awake at the first rising of the sun,” the king explained.

Just then, Lothiriel entered the dining chamber also, and while Erchirion moved to hold her chair for her, Imrahil hastened to make introductions. “At last you get to meet my daughter, Eomer. This is Lothiriel.”

Eomer grinned at her, and informed her father, “On the contrary, my friend. The lady and I have already met, walked along the beach and had a lengthy conversation about Rohan. Her curiosity about my country seems boundless.”

Imrahil’s brow shot up in surprise. “Lothiriel? How did all this come about?”

Lothiriel smiled reassuringly at her father, answering, “As it happened, King Eomer was not the only early riser this morning and I encountered him in the garden. Since he had never visited the sea before, I took him down to the beach for a walk and I fear I overwhelmed him with my questions. It is fortunate he does not seem to object to speaking of his homeland, particularly since I still have many questions not yet asked.”

Eomer chuckled. “I would be happy to do all I can to satisfy your curiosity on the matter. Though perhaps a better option might be to persuade your father to bring you to Rohan on a visit. His time spent there was not intended for pleasure, and I should very much like to entertain all of you at Edoras.”

Talk moved on to other matters, and once the meal concluded, Imrahil and his sons departed with Eomer while Lothiriel made ready the palace for the welcoming feast that evening. Apparently Eomer had stressed to the Prince that he preferred keeping his visit to Dol Amroth at a modest level, so Imrahil had only invited a few of the local nobility to meet the king and the supper was to be far less formal than otherwise would have been the case.

For that, Lothiriel was relieved. She always found formal state suppers to be rather tedious. The threat of war had dampened things in recent years, but ever since their victory the noblemen had readily reverted to their usual affected behavior of self-importance. After spending more than an hour with Eomer this morning, Lothiriel rather wondered how he fared in such an atmosphere. He seemed quite straightforward and to the point, and she could not imagine him to be very tolerant of all this false posturing. Perhaps things were different in the royal court of Rohan than they were in Gondor.

With only a few couples to be in attendance, music would be provided as a background, but there would be no dancing. That simplified matters considerably. Undoubtedly, once the supper was concluded, the men would engage in some form of political debate, and it would be Lothiriel’s task to lead the ladies to the parlor and provide them with wine and the opportunity to gossip. Considering the good looks and marital status of Rohan’s king, she could readily guess what the main topic of conversation would be tonight. Many of the women who would be in attendance had daughters of a marriageable age, and they would be anxious to find a way to make introductions and ingratiate themselves to Eomer.

By the middle of the afternoon, her head was aching as she fretted about all the details of the evening. A servant went to fetch her some tea, in hopes that it would help, as she settled at a writing desk to review her plans. In truth, she suspected her efforts would be more appreciated by her father and the nobles of Dol Amroth than by Rohan’s king.

The man she had met this morning did not seem likely to care overly much about seating arrangements and keeping guests happy and amused. He seemed a practical man, who would rather expect his guests to be responsible for their own enjoyment of the occasion so long as he provided food and an excuse to gather. The thought made her smile in amusement. Gondor, and Dol Amroth as well, would be horrified at so casual an attitude toward such assemblies. They took their socializing far too seriously to leave anything to chance! 

With a sigh, she sipped the hot tea the servant had brought and rose to give a few final instructions. There still was time to lie down for an hour before she had to dress, and between a nap and the tea, hopefully the headache would be gone before she must face her guests.

xxxxx

As Eomer stepped into the parlor, and all eyes turned toward him, he felt his entire body tense. He knew Imrahil meant well by this gathering, and he had kept it small and probably about as informal as Dol Amroth got, but still he would much have preferred just a quiet meal with Imrahil’s family. He had learned there would be no dancing, which was something of a mixed blessing. Not having to dance with every eligible woman in the room was a good thing, but he also would not have the opportunity to use Lothiriel as an escape when the conversation got too tedious. He had often made use of Eowyn in that way, catching her eye and claiming a dance as he apologetically slipped away from some windbag who was droning on endlessly about anything and everything. He suspected Lothiriel would have readily fallen in with his plans and aided him however she could, but that avenue was not going to be available to him. The only thing working in his favor was that Gondor had a strict code of behavior that required the guests to leave at some defined point, rather than lingering until the ale was curtailed, encouraging the Eorlingas to finally seek their beds.

A servant was passing with a tray of wine goblets and Eomer procured one, taking a large gulp and then a deep breath as he plastered on a smile and began his dutiful greeting of the assemblage. The longer the socializing went on, the more he realized how hungry he was, and he sincerely hoped his stomach would not embarrass him with some rude sound. To his relief, a few moments later the guests were summoned to the table, and were being shown to their seats. Apparently there was a rather rigid arrangement to the seating, even at ‘informal’ gatherings, and he watched the protocol dance unfolding before him until a hand touched his arm. 

Glancing down, he found Lothiriel at his elbow. “This way, my lord,” she said quietly, her right hand motioning in the direction she wished him to go. Though her face was impassive and a slight smile graced her lips, it was the look in her eyes that caught his notice. He had the distinct impression she knew his reaction to all of this, and found it quite amusing.

He suspected the evening would be far more pleasant if he were able to sit and talk with the lady, but to his disappointment, she took a seat several chairs down the table from where he sat. However, he had been placed at the head of the table, with Imrahil on one side and Elphir on the other. That did provide something of a cushion against the nobles who were no doubt eager to catch his ear. Imrahil was flanked on his left by Erchirion and Amrothos, while Elphir was seated next to his wife and then Lothiriel next to her. Elphir’s infant had been colicky earlier so this was the first opportunity Eomer had to meet his wife.

The night unfolded pretty much as both Eomer and Lothiriel had expected it would in each of their respective cases. Eomer was soon bored with the constant chatter about political and economic matters, and Lothiriel’s hunch had proven correct about the subject of gossip in the ladies’ group. A couple of times she had to choke back her laughter at some of the women. Several made unguarded comments which hinted more than a little that rather than secure the king for their daughters, they wouldn’t mind having him for themselves! While she could sympathize with their admiration for his physical looks, she very much wondered if they would find life in Rohan nearly so appealing as they found the king. From what Eomer had told her earlier about his homeland, things were far different there. These ladies were used to living lives of leisure and excess. Rohan seemed to be a more practical and simple place, where even royal women contributed their efforts in getting things done. Life to the north appeared decidedly dissimilar to anything with which Gondor was familiar.

As Eomer had noted, at a certain point there seemed to be an almost unspoken agreement to end the evening. He was not entirely clear how it was accomplished, but he didn’t really care either. Just so long as the people left and he could relax, things would be fine.

Imrahil and two of his sons gathered for a nightcap, and Eomer joined them. Elphir, his wife Alcathir and Lothiriel all excused themselves and headed off to bed, and Eomer’s eyes followed Lothiriel as she climbed the stairs. When she was out of sight, he moved to join his hosts.

Amrothos handed him a goblet of wine as Imrahil told him, “Not the most enjoyable of evenings for you, I am sure, Eomer, but I hope not too tedious. And it was necessary to set the wheels in motion for you with regard to the trade agreements. These men were the ones you will most likely need to interact with in that regard. However, with our departure in a sennight, this should be the only official gathering you will have to endure. Now you may turn your attention to rest and relaxation.”

“Hear, hear!” Erchirion seconded, and the four of them laughed together.

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Eomer’s pleasure at being in Dol Amroth and away from his advisers for a brief time was shortlived. The afternoon of his second day in the port city, a courier arrived with a large packet of documents needing his ‘immediate’ attention, according to the letter from his chief adviser. He might have succeeded in ignoring that had not the man himself, Lord Gamulf, put in appearance the very next day. Clearly he intended to make certain that Eomer kept busy while away from Edoras, and Imrahil graciously welcomed this unexpected visitor though it rankled him to do so. He well understood the young king’s position and felt keenly his need to escape, however briefly, but it would not do to offend the man by turning him away.

As a result, Lothiriel suggested putting the library at Eomer’s disposal for the duration of his stay, and he soon found himself sequestered behind a pile of paperwork. Imrahil and his three sons put in frequent appearances to give Eomer regular breaks from his work, but it only marginally improved the cloud of ill-humor that had settled upon him. The king had spent the morning after Gamulf’s arrival resentfully poring over the papers delivered to him. After several hours of it, he could stand it no longer and decided to get out and stretch his legs. Some fresh air might invigorate him and enable him to plow through the rest of it this afternoon.

Lord Gamulf counted himself fortunate when he spotted the king leaving the library and making his way down the hall. Now might be his best chance to get the king’s ear and mention a few matters to him. He quickened his pace to catch up, though with Eomer’s long and purposeful stride, he ended up almost running down the hall. At length, Eomer heard his footsteps and turned to see who it was. Only barely did he keep his annoyance from reflecting in his face.

“Ah, Eomer King, so glad I caught you. If you have a few moments there are some things we ought to discuss,” Lord Gamulf announced, getting right to the point.

“My Lord Gamulf...” Eomer began, hoping to cut the man off before he got going, but just then Lothiriel appeared at his side and he was distracted from the nobleman.

“Please forgive the interruption, my lords, but King Eomer is expected in a meeting momentarily with Prince Imrahil’s representative and is unavailable to speak further with you just now, Lord Gamulf. Perhaps you could put your concerns in a report for him to review if he has time later this afternoon?”

The man stared blankly at her for an instant, then nodded to the both of them. “Of course. Please excuse me, my lord.” 

He moved away, obviously somewhat irked at being thwarted in his efforts to corner the king, and Eomer cocked an eyebrow at the woman standing beside him. “I am meeting with Imrahil’s representative?” he queried softly.

“Yes. Do you not remember promising to satisfy my curiosity about Rohan? I thought we might discuss it over our midday meal. Or perhaps you would prefer to hear what Lord Gamulf has to say?” she explained, her voice laden with an undercurrent of amusement.

With a chuckle, Eomer shook his head. “No, no – first things first. I cannot go back on my promise to a lady. But will not your father be expecting me to join him for dinner?”

“I have already made him aware that you have prior commitments that occupy your time just now, but that you would see him later. He was sorry to have you so burdened while on your visit here, but was quite understanding otherwise,” she replied mildly.

With servants passing, Eomer dared not give into the full extent of his pleasure at her efforts in his behalf. Struggling to keep a fairly straight face, he offered his arm. “Then perhaps you would be so kind as to escort me to my meeting with Prince Imrahil’s representative?”

Giving an acquiescing nod of her head, she took his arm and steered him back toward the library, detaining a servant along the way and sending her off for several blankets, food and wine to be brought there. Eomer silently watched as she made arrangements, and once the items requested had been procured, and the servant dispatched, she turned to him expectantly. “Do not just stand there, my lord. Make yourself useful and move that desk over there,” she directed, pointing toward the wall she meant.

Increasingly curious about what she was up to, he did as instructed and stood waiting for her to further charge him with responsibilities. She began spreading out the blankets on the floor in front of the open balcony doors, and he moved to assist her. Once the three blankets were in place, she began setting the food and drink thereon, and in a quick, elegant motion, gracefully tucked her legs under her and took a seat. When she glanced up at him promptingly, he followed suit, crossing his legs and taking a seat facing her. Without prying eyes, he gave in to his pleasure and amusement, telling her, “You are quite resourceful, my lady. I need someone like you in Edoras, to run interference for me there. Gamling is good, but not nearly so creative!”

Pouring a glass of wine for each of them, she handed him his and then took a sip of her own before answering, “Gamling is a man. A woman can get away with far more because the men do not dare challenge her, especially the noblemen!”

Releasing his pent-up laughter, Eomer heartily approved her words. “True! I think Eowyn often had them running scared. I missed her greatly when she married.”

xx

Unbeknownst to the picnicking pair in the library, they had become the topic of conversation at the dinner attended by Imrahil and his sons that day. As they were seating themselves, Amrothos glanced around and asked, “Eomer is not joining us? Or Lothiriel?”

Imrahil shook his head. “No, Eomer is occupied with much work just now and eating at his desk. I am not sure where Lothiriel has wandered off to. Perhaps she is dining with a friend.”

As they began dishing up their plates, Erchirion broached the subject he and his brothers had been discussing amongst themselves just this morning. “Father, have you given any more thought to a union for Lothiriel?”

Imrahil sighed. “Yes. Far too much thought, but with no satisfactory solutions. I confess I am loath to part with her, and though I know it is normal and acceptable for her to marry without love, I would very much wish she could have what her mother and I shared.” He fell into a brooding silence as his sons glanced between each other.

Clearing his throat, Amrothos offered, “What about Eomer? Would she not make him a good wife? And they seem to be getting along rather well since he has been here.”

His father’s head snapped up at the suggestion and he quickly shook his head. “No, that would never do. I could never send her so far away. Eomer is a good man, but he would do better to seek a bride in his own kingdom. Lothiriel belongs in Gondor.” As an afterthought, he added, “And being a queen in a foreign country would be far too taxing on her. I would not so burden my daughter.”

Each of the siblings hid their mild amusement at their father’s overly protective nature of their sister. In his eyes, it was unlikely any man would be suitable unless he was willing to come live in the palace, so Lothiriel would be close at hand, and have nothing at all change in her relationship with her family.

They were protective of their sister also, but a bit more pragmatic than their father was being. She needed to marry and at one and twenty years, she was in her prime. Indeed, most girls in Gondor were already married by this age and only the War had delayed the subject where Lothiriel was concerned.

Elphir laid down his eating utensils and announced firmly, “Father, I think you underestimate Lothiriel. She worked faithfully, and quite admirably I might add, at my side in running Dol Amroth in your absence, as well as making herself useful in the Houses of Healing and in seeing that our people were fed and clothed. In all honesty, I think she would make an excellent queen for Rohan, and Eomer is an excellent choice of husband for her. I truly think you should reconsider this and make a proposal to the king while he is here. His visit will enable the two of them to become acquainted, and I am certain that Eomer will not object to Lothiriel once he has the opportunity to come to know her.” He finished and held his breath, as did his brothers. They all felt it would be a good match, but persuading Imrahil to acknowledge that, and act upon it, was another matter.

Not unexpectedly, Imrahil did not respond for several minutes, then quietly ended the conversation by saying, “We will discuss this some other time.” The brothers glanced at one another in frustration, and then focused their attention back on their plates of food. This had not been unforeseen, but they had hoped that a show of unity among the three of them might nudge their father to action. Much as he could not bear the idea, sooner or later he would have to give up his daughter to marriage. It would not be fair to her to do otherwise.

xx

Eomer’s laughter reverberated around the room. For a day that had begun in such a dreary fashion, it had suddenly taken a much better turn. Lothiriel’s conversation with him was lively, and she had a constant stream of questions about Rohan and life there such that he thought it would likely take a week to answer everything she wanted to know. But it was far more pleasant sitting on a blanket, eating good food and enjoying the company of an attractive woman, than chained behind a pile of reports. He glanced up at the open balcony doors and asked, “Why are we sitting here? Why not at the desk or out on the balcony?

Lothiriel grinned. “If we sat at the desk, it would not be a picnic, and if we sat on the balcony, Lord Gamulf might discern the nature of your meeting with Imrahil’s representative and attempt to intrude.”

He laughed again. “You have thought of everything, then! And I thank you, from the bottom of my heart!” He laid his hand over his heart as he swallowed another large gulp of wine.

Sipping her wine more genteelly, Lothiriel responded, “You are most welcome, my lord. But perhaps I should warn you, I have taken a personal interest in freeing the caged bird.”

He gave her a look of puzzlement as he chose another piece of chicken and waited for her to explain.

She looked down at the blanket a few moments, then met his gaze. At length she confessed, “Something deep within me balks at the idea that a king may never have a moment’s peace, and I am appalled that they would even chase you down here in Dol Amroth for what are surely petty matters. Perhaps...you will not object too much if I take it upon myself to...alter the situation for you?”

Eomer’s eyes narrowed and he started to ask her to elaborate, but then thought better of it. For some reason, he decided he would rather simply trust her on this and wait to see what she had planned. Besides, he was not good at deception and might give something away. He could not reveal what he did not know. Nodding cordially at her, he murmured, “You have the king’s permission to proceed...as you see fit!”

xxxxx

Gamulf’s presence put a damper on even the meals they ate. He continually attempted to steer the conversation toward business, and the rest of them just as concertedly steered it elsewhere. The battle raged for the entire meal, and when they were done eating, it was clear that he intended to further pursue these things. However, Lothiriel was one step ahead of him yet again. Normally, the men would have retired to her father’s study to drink and talk, but already her brothers were finding excuses to make themselves scarce. 

Before Eomer could be dragged off, Lothiriel suggested to him, “My lord, would you walk with me in the garden? It is a pleasant evening and you could tell me more of Rohan.”

Regardless of any preference on his part to keep Eomer occupied with diplomatic matters, Lord Gamulf certainly had no intention of being rude to his hostess, the daughter of a prince no less. Taking his cue from Lothiriel’s offer, which the king readily accepted, Imrahil addressed Eomer’s adviser, “Gamulf, I do have some dispatches I must get prepared for tomorrow, but will you share a nightcap with me before calling it an evening?”

Left with little recourse, Gamulf tolerantly followed Imrahil off down the hall as Lothiriel slipped on the shawl a servant had retrieved for her. Taking Eomer’s arm, they headed for the garden, only giving way to their laughter once they were outside.

Their respite lasted well over an hour, though the time seemed much shorter, and when they finished talking, Lothiriel led Eomer through some back passages to his room, so that there would be little chance of Lord Gamulf lying in wait and snaring him before he could retire for the evening.

xxxxx

Eomer paced around the library, feeling more caged than ever. He could hardly believe his advisers had done this to him, sending work along to him even while away on these official visits. Perhaps they had suspected his true design in traveling to the southern kingdoms and were intent on keeping him in line...

Despite the pleasant interludes with Lothiriel the previous day – and it had been one of the longest midday meals he had ever taken – he knew with Lord Gamulf present in Dol Amroth, there would be no escaping work. To Lothiriel’s credit, she had cleverly managed to get one of the Port Masters to take Gamulf off on a tour of the nearby ports and a complete briefing on the status of trade through the Dol Amroth harbor. After she had explained that, with all the paperwork Eomer had to do, he would never find the time, and observing how fortunate it was that the king had Gamulf available to go in his stead, the man had practically begged Lothiriel for the chance to be of service. That at least got him out of Eomer’s hair for most of today, but still left Eomer imprisoned inside four walls with a mound of work to be done.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and his annoyance was evident in his voice. “Yes? What is it?”

To his surprise, Lothiriel’s head appeared around the door. “Am I disturbing you, my lord?” Something in her eyes suggested she knew very well she was not.

“Not at all! Come in!” he welcomed, grateful for any reason to ignore the pile of papers on the desk a little longer.

She carried a bundle in her arms and handed it to him. “What is this?” he asked, an eyebrow quirking upward.

“A change of clothing. What you are wearing now will never suit,” she replied vaguely.

“Suit?” he asked, unwrapping the bundle. Inside was a linen shirt and simple breeches, the ones he had worn the morning he first met her.

“What you have on,” she elaborated, “is far too rich and would draw far too much attention. If you wish to venture into town with me, your attire must more closely resemble the sort that your men wear. Unless our citizens have a particular reason to recognize your face, you will appear to be no more than just another Rohirric soldier, passing a few hours walking about the market.”

His head came up and he stared at her in disbelief, unable to form a response. At last he managed, “Are you serious?”

She nodded. “Our city is quite safe, even if you are recognized, though I think perhaps you would prefer not to be. With assistance from certain people, you will be able to leave the palace undetected and return the same way. Though you will, of course, risk the reputation of being exceedingly slow about getting your work done.” She gestured toward the desk and grinned conspiratorially at him.

Again he just stared, but then quickly dropped the clothing on a chair and peeled off his tunic and shirt. With a demure blush, Lothiriel moved to the balcony and kept her attention fixed on the horizon until he summoned her return. He had discarded his finer clothing in a pile and she reached for it, beginning to neatly fold things. “You will not want these looking disheveled when you have to return and don them again. It would give you away.”

It was Eomer’s turn to blush, embarrassed that she had caught him being so unkempt. A moment later, she took him by the elbow and stepped toward a bookcase along the southern wall. Removing a few books, she pressed a release mechanism and the bookcase swung slightly outward, revealing a passage behind it. Just inside the passage was a lantern, that she lit before gesturing him forward and closing the panel behind them. With easy assurance, she struck off along the passage and he fell in behind her, keeping his head low since the space was little more than six feet high. After walking for several minutes, most of it on a steep downward slant, they reached a wall and, after a moment, she again had released a hidden door and they stepped out into a small building.

Eomer moved over to look out the window while she closed the passage, leaving the extinguished lantern inside. The building was along the edge of the beach where they had walked the morning after his arrival. He had likely seen it then, but paid it no mind at the time. It was filled with various items of no special significance, and there was nothing to suggest this was anything other than a simple storage shed.

Lothiriel was opening the door and he followed her out onto the beach, then around the shed and up some stairs to a gate. A guard stood there and merely gave her a nod as they passed, paying no particular attention to her companion. Eomer wondered if she did this sort of thing so often that he did not find it unusual, or whether he just considered it not his business to question what the lady did.

A short time later, they were walking the main thoroughfare through town. It was market day and stalls were set up along the streets in addition to the many shops that lined the way.

Eomer stopped and took a deep breath of the fresh sea air, turning his face up toward the sun with undisguised pleasure. A thought suddenly disrupted his contented mood and he asked hesitantly, “What if someone comes looking for me and I am not there?”

Lothiriel smiled benignly. “I suppose the servant who I have set on watch at the door will tell them what I instructed, that you are in an important meeting and not to be disturbed unless the building is on fire.”

Eomer chuckled. “And what important meeting am I in today?”

“Why I should think it obvious, my lord. You are undertaking an in depth study of Dol Amroth’s economy and looking for ways it might prove beneficial to Rohan. Such a study will surely take several hours, but since Lord Gamulf will be otherwise occupied during that time, you have no need to cut your research short on his account.”

Without thinking, Eomer flung his arms exuberantly around the girl and clutched her to him, laughing almost hysterically. “That does it! I am kidnapping you and taking you back to Rohan with me. Gamling is forthwith dismissed, and you will be my new Doorward. I defy anyone to get past if you are keeping my gate!”

Pressed against his chest so tightly she could scarcely breathe, Lothiriel could not restrain a grin at his appreciation of her efforts. She might not be able to flee her own gilded cage but, at least for a short while, she was helping him sneak outside his. That knowledge gave her immense satisfaction, though it actually startled her a little. Never before had she behaved in such a bold manner with a virtual stranger, or flouted the usual workings of the court, Dol Amroth’s or anyone else’s. Perhaps she did have it within her to ‘kick over the traces’ now and then. What was it about this man that inspired her to act so? Perhaps the War had changed her more than she had realized. Such behavior would have been unthinkable just a few short years ago. She would never have dared risk censure from her father or anyone else were they to discover her activities. But no matter the outcome, she was utterly committed to this course of action. That it was so warmly received by Eomer himself was just added incentive to continue.

As he finally released her, she tried to control the blush that had risen in her cheeks. Other than her family, she had never been hugged by a man before, certainly not so enthusiastically. But Eomer seemed oblivious to her lost composure, and was already looking around excitedly to see what adventure might catch his eye. A moment later he struck off down the street and she hurried to keep up.

It had been a long time since Eomer had had the freedom to wander at will, anonymously browse shops and be part of a crowd. Dol Amroth’s market was quite a bit different than the more agrarian market in Edoras, and he had never before seen such displays of fresh fish and sea-related trinkets.

He allowed Lothiriel to persuade him into trying some steamed scallops, and clams that were dipped in a batter and fried in oil. Despite their smell and appearance, both were surprisingly good and he came to the conclusion he could easily learn to like more seafood in his diet.

After whiling away several hours, Lothiriel reluctantly announced that they should be returning lest Lord Gamulf come back before them and discover Eomer’s absence. Grudgingly Eomer gave in to the wisdom of this, though he could hardly complain overly much considering how little of this day he would end up having devoted to work.

They slowly made their way back to the shed, through the tunnel and into the library. Lothiriel left him with a nod of the head and a promise to see him at supper.

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

By his sixth day in Dol Amroth, Eomer was torn between anxiously anticipating the next outing Lothiriel would spring on him, and a tremendous fear that she had exhausted her supply of tricks.

He watched her surreptitiously over the morning meal, but she gave no indication that she noticed his looks. Lord Gamulf apologetically appeared late to the meal, and took the only empty chair, which happened to be across from Lothiriel. Once he had laden his plate with food, she folded her arms on the table in front of her and looked disarmingly at him. “Lord Gamulf, it is my understanding that you will be joining us in Minas Tirith also.”

He smiled indulgently at the girl. “Yes, my lady. There is much work to do and I think I should make myself available to his majesty for the duration of his travels.”

Lothiriel nodded in understanding, even as Eomer winced, saying, “That is most thoughtful of you, my lord. Since my cousin’s home in Emyn Arnen is not yet complete and somewhat small, I fear it will not be possible for you to journey overland with us, but I hope you will find it acceptable that I have arranged passage for you on a boat traveling up the Anduin. Unfortunately, it does necessitate your departing just after dinner today. I hope that will not be inconvenient for you.”

Eomer nearly choked on the bite of food he was beginning to swallow. _What was this?_ Though her tone was charming and accommodating, she was clearly giving the man no choice in the matter. He would be leaving today on a boat or risk offending his hostess!

Lord Gamulf fidgeted and glanced around the table, trying to think of some way to alter the plans made in his behalf, but Eomer cleared his throat just then and assured him, “Do not make yourself anxious, Lord Gamulf. I can manage a few days without your assistance and I will see you soon enough in Minas Tirith. Perhaps it will give you time to prepare reports on the situation there, for me to study upon my arrival?”

Given this charge by his king, Gamulf could do nothing else but graciously accept and promise Lady Lothiriel he would be packed and ready to leave on the boat. She returned her attention to her meal as she added, “If you need assistance, please feel free to ask. I can arrange for more servants to work with you on your preparations.”

Meanwhile, Lothiriel’s brothers were glancing at one another, wondering what exactly was going on. Though Faramir’s home was considerably smaller than the palace at Dol Amroth, it should easily have been able to provide room for one extra person. Further, ‘not yet complete’ was a bit misleading. The house was entirely built. It lacked only to be completely furnished and gardens laid, but in all material respects it was perfectly sound. 

Having spent so much time working in close quarters with his sister, only Elphir had an inkling to what might be behind her actions. Often she had stepped in and ‘directed’ activity so that it flowed around him rather than his having to deal with it. He very much suspected she was getting rid of this thorn in Eomer’s side. The man had not been invited on this venture, and it had been evident to Elphir that Eomer had not been pleased by his presence. It would appear that Lothiriel had taken it upon herself to assist Rohan’s king much as she had assisted him. It wouldn’t make the man disappear entirely, but it did get rid of him for at least the time it would take to reach Minas Tirith, and he wouldn’t be at all surprised if the duration of travel increased considerably!

Whatever Erchirion and Amrothos’ thoughts, they did not voice them. They had long ago learned to trust their sister’s judgement in managing the household and this just seemed part of it. Lord Gamulf was a rather pompous aristocrat and they had found it tedious having to entertain him, especially when they had been looking forward instead to spending time with their relaxed friend, Eomer.

Preparing for his departure largely kept Lord Gamulf far too busy to look over Eomer’s shoulder, and realizing he would at least need to ‘work’ until his adviser was on the boat, the king dutifully settled to his task after breakfast. Knowing he would have the afternoon free, as well as almost a fortnight before he saw the man again, made the tedium more bearable, and Eomer was startled when Lothiriel appeared and asked if he wished to join them for dinner and then see Lord Gamulf off.

Gratefully, he set aside the parchment he had been reading and stretched, rising to follow her to the dining chamber. The light meal was partaken quickly and they were soon on their way to the harbor. Once the boat pulled away from the dock, Lothiriel turned back toward the palace on the hill. 

She and Eomer strolled in silence, Eomer’s escort trailing several feet behind. At length, Lothiriel said, “If you have time, my lord, there is something I wish to show you.”

Curiously, Eomer looked at her. “Of course. I will make time for you.”

She gave him a knowing smile, not surprised by his readiness to avoid returning to the library. When they reached the gate leading to the beach, she suggested, “We will be safe from here on. Perhaps you should release your guard.”

Nodding, he did as she bid, willing to trust her. Once done, they made their way down to the shore and the shed that hid the secret palace entrance. She motioned for him to be seated on a bench resting against its front wall and then said, “I will return soon. Wait for me here.”

Halfway seated, he rose again. “But, where are you going? And what is this all about?”

She turned, walking backwards away from him and laughed. “Just trust me, my lord!” With that, she turned and scurried back to the stairs and disappeared from sight.

Not knowing what else to do, Eomer sat down and stared out at the sea, rushing into the shore and then back out again. In his time in Dol Amroth, he had discovered that the sea actually had a rather peaceful rhythm to it. He had thought the sound of it would keep him awake, but instead he found it lulled him to sleep. Lothiriel insisted that it could be quite violent and raging during stormy weather, but having seen no evidence of that, he was forced to take her word on it.

xx

Eothain sat waiting impatiently by Firefoot’s stall. He still wasn’t certain about this. The Lady Lothiriel had sought him out earlier this morning and asked him to accompany her riding. That alone was strange, but then she had claimed that Eomer King had instructed that he use Firefoot, to “give him some exercise”. He wasn’t entirely sure the stallion would even tolerate anyone other than Eomer on his back, and he might have gone to Eomer himself and questioned these instructions, but that would make it appear he thought the lady was lying. In the end, he had agreed to do as she requested. He had saddled the king’s horse and the one the lady had indicated she would use, and now he merely awaited her arrival. 

And just then she entered the stables. Hastily standing, he bowed politely to her. “My lady. The horses are ready.”

She gave him a friendly smile and moved to bring her horse out into the aisle. “Excellent! I hope you do not mind my imposing on you like this.”

“No, of course not, my lady,” he responded dutifully, still quite puzzled. Further, what on earth was that bundle she was tying to her saddle? 

Asking no questions, he led Firefoot out and, despite the stallion’s prancing, was able to mount the horse. The lady led the way out of the stable and, after a short distance, she turned down a narrow trail leading to the beach. They passed through a gate where one of the Swan Knights stood guard, and politely acknowledged the lady and her companion.

Moments later, he found himself riding up to a small building with a man sitting on a bench out front. The sun was in his eyes at first, but suddenly he realized it was Eomer.

xx

It seemed he had been waiting a long time. Periodically, Eomer rose and paced around the vicinity before reseating himself on the bench. Just when his patience was almost exhausted, he noted two riders approaching. That seemed curious as Lothiriel had indicated this was a beach used exclusively by the royal family. A moment later, he realized Lothiriel was one of the riders and the other one was Eothain! On Firefoot! He was instantly on his feet, ready to demand an explanation when they drew near enough.

Before he could do so, however, a bundle suddenly came sailing at him from Lothiriel’s direction. Catching it easily, he focused his attention on her. From Eothain’s expression, he suspected the other man was as confused as he was.

Lothiriel simply sat smiling at him a moment, then asked, “Well? Are you going to change clothes so we can go riding? Or, if you prefer, Eothain may use my horse and accompany you.”

There was a long pause while her words registered, and then he broke into delighted laughter. “Why do I keep underestimating you?” Moving to the shed, he stepped inside, quickly reappearing in his now standard attire of breeches and shirt.

While he was changing, Lothiriel turned to Eothain. “My apologies for misleading you, Captain. I did not think the king would be ‘allowed’ to go riding unescorted unless I was able to sneak him away, and to do that I needed to find a way to sneak his horse away.”

Eothain shook his head in wonder. “Far be it from me to thwart a lady’s well-laid plans! I will take a nap on that bench and the two of you may return at your leisure.” He paused, then added, “Just do not let anything happen to him or it will be my head that will roll!”

Eomer’s reappearance was met with the sound of Lothiriel’s lilting laughter. “Do not fear, Eothain. The king will be perfectly safe, unless he manages to fall off his horse!”

Eomer blinked at this final comment, but chose to ignore it. Instead he caught Firefoot’s bridle and rubbed behind the stallion’s ears. Quietly, he murmured, “Sorry to have neglected you for so long, my friend. Soon we will be back in action, if only for a short time.”

Eothain had dismounted and moved to take Eomer’s place on the bench, using the king’s shed clothing as a pillow. Eomer was amused by the liberty he took, but could not bring himself to complain. Swinging into the saddle, he looked to Lothiriel. “Lead on, my lady!”

Eomer had never ridden on a beach before, and Firefoot was more than a little wary of this stuff under his hooves. Lothiriel’s gelding was well accustomed to it, however, and Firefoot was not about to be shown up by another horse, quickly adapting to the unusual footing.

Both Eomer and his horse enjoyed the opportunity to get out and run freely. In just moments, the two had sprinted past Lothiriel and her mount and pulled a considerable distance ahead of them. Knowing her horse could never manage such a blistering pace, she made no attempt to challenge them, but did call out, “Eomer!”

When he looked back, she pointed ahead to where large boulders created almost a wall from the hill to the sea. “Do not go any further than those rocks. That is where our private beach ends.”

He nodded his understanding, grateful that she did not expect him to ride sedately beside her at a polite canter. With a whoop of exuberance, he gave the stallion his head and leaned low on his neck. Digging in, Firefoot put on a burst of speed and the two charged madly toward the rocky perimeter of their playground.

Only when they were almost on top of the boulders did Eomer begin to turn his horse. Breaking stride only enough to negotiate the turn back toward his companion, they were soon running full tilt once more. Lothiriel let out a laugh as they flew past her, slowly turning to follow.

At length, Eomer finally signaled Firefoot to slow and gradually they slipped to a walk, the great stallion puffing and blowing but seeming to have enjoyed the exercise as much as Eomer had. Dropping the reins, Eomer let him wander at will and Lothiriel drew her horse in beside them.

The silence stretched between them, but it was not at all uncomfortable and Eomer knew he was not expected to make idle conversation. Finally, though, there was something he did want to say. “Thank you, Lothiriel. You can never know just how much these past few days have meant to me.” He paused then added, “While Gamulf has been a nuisance, I am not sure you would have been so resourceful in my behalf had he not come and tried to entrap me. I might have enjoyed a nice, quiet, uneventful visit with friends, but I do not think it would have been anywhere near so memorable as you have made it for me.”

His sincerity was not lost on Lothiriel, and she gave him a warm smile. “Then it has all been worthwhile, Eomer. I am happy I could help.”

They lapsed once more into a peaceful quiet as they walked the horses to let them cool down. Before they knew it, the sun was beginning to drop lower in the sky and they turned back toward the shed and poor, abandoned Eothain. Their sympathy for him was appeased somewhat as they rode up to discover him blissfully snoring away.

Eomer chuckled and commented, “He always could sleep anytime and anywhere! Anyone else would have trouble sleeping tonight after such a nap, but he will drop off as easily as a baby all the same!”

Lothiriel laughed as Eomer dismounted and went to wake his friend. Sitting up with a yawn, Eothain blinked at the two of them, “Done?”

“Yes. Naptime is over, but thank you, my friend!” Eomer told him, clapping him on the shoulder.

Eothain grinned and rose. “Not at all. And, now, perhaps I should turn you over to the lady while I go stable the horses.”

Dutifully, Lothiriel dismounted and once he was back on Firefoot, Eothain took the reins of her horse and moved away from them. Collecting his clothing, the two royals made their way back to the palace to wash and change for dinner.

Since they were to depart for Emyn Arnen the next day, the evening was mostly spent packing by everyone who would be going, which included King Eomer, Prince Imrahil, Lothiriel, Erchirion and Amrothos. Elphir would remain to run the city in his father’s absence.

_TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

After a light breakfast, taken early, the party set out for Ithilien. They had only been riding an hour when Eomer noticed Lothiriel fidgeting in the saddle. Dropping back to ride alongside her, he asked, “Is something the matter? Are you unwell?”

She gave him a rueful grin. “I fear I am not so accustomed to riding as you Rohirrim are. Just that little bit yesterday has made me sore and I am sure I will be even more so by the time we get to Emyn Arnen.”

Eomer frowned, wishing there was something he could do to ease her plight, but knowing he could not. “Perhaps we should have brought a carriage for you…” he began to suggest, but she cut him off.

“I grant you I am in some discomfort, Eomer, but I do not wish to be sequestered away in a carriage for this entire journey. There is far too much to be seen that is better seen from horseback than from a carriage window. I assure you, I will manage. Do not concern yourself on my behalf.”

Realizing the sensibility of her reasoning, he gave in, but he remained at her side and they talked of Ithilien and Emyn Arnen, which Eomer had never seen before.

When they camped for the night, Eomer discovered just how out of her element Lothiriel was in the wilds. All her experience was within a household and she was ill-prepared for outdoor living. It rather pleased him to be able to return her kindnesses to him by taking the lead in organizing the camp and seeing that all were comfortably settled in for the night. And in spite of the primitive conditions, Lothiriel still managed to prepare a tasty meal for their supper. Eomer had expected they would bring along servants to do the cooking and other chores, but none of the Dol Amroth crowd seemed to expect favored treatment and all pitched in to do what was necessary.

Likely without Lothiriel along, the pace could have quickened and they would have been to Emyn Arnen in twelve long days, but the slower rate her presence dictated put them in the yard of Faramir and Eowyn’s home the afternoon of the fourteenth day.

It seemed to Eomer as if he had not seen his sister for many years instead of a few months. He was reluctant to release her after their embrace and, perhaps sensing his feelings on the matter, she even refrained from teasing him about it. Even so, it was evident to Eomer how truly happy Eowyn was, and it was equally clear that Faramir doted on her just as much now as he had prior to their wedding.

Eagerly they welcomed their families into their home. The Dol Amroth relations had already seen most of the house, with just a few new things since their last visit, but it was all new to Eomer, and Eowyn delighted in showing it to him, room by room. While they took their tour, Faramir led his own family to his study and provided refreshment so the siblings could be alone together. They passed the time, waiting for Eomer and Eowyn to join them, by catching up on the news.

Upon their appearance, Eomer was reminded of Lothiriel’s difficulties traveling by horseback and softly suggested to his sister that she might appreciate a hot bath. When he told her the reason, she quickly whisked Lothiriel away to see to her needs and left the men to talk further.

Eventually mention of Lord Gamulf came up and everyone regaled Faramir with their particular objections to the man. For the most part, Eomer kept somewhat silent, not wanting to reveal too much of what Lothiriel had done lest her father disapprove, but finally he could keep silent no longer. “I must say, Faramir, your cousin is a marvel,” he announced, pouring himself more wine.

Faramir arched an eyebrow at the comment, and her family turned curious eyes to him, as Faramir questioned, “Indeed? How so? I know I think her quite marvelous, but what is your reason for thinking so?”

Eomer hesitated, wondering if he had stuck his neck out too far, then carefully explained, “I have never seen anyone so skillfully keep someone at bay as she has done with Gamulf, and half the time the man was practically thanking her for doing so! She provided just the right amount of flattery with enough fine words that she had him believing she was the most charming hostess he had ever encountered. And all the while, she was thwarting his many attempts to keep me working every waking hour! I have already told her I intend to kidnap her and give her Gamling’s job.” He chuckled as he remembered the circumstances in which he had uttered that declaration.

Lothiriel’s brothers were passing looks between them at the king’s hearty approval of their sister, and Faramir couldn’t miss what route their thoughts were likely taking, but her father’s demeanor was altogether different. At Eomer’s words, he had stiffened, and then brusquely announced, “I am happy to lend you my daughter while you are in Dol Amroth, Eomer, but do not think I will so easily part with her when you are gone.”

His words hung in the air, leaving a chill, and Eomer blinked in surprise at the cold response. Attempting to lighten the frosty atmosphere, Erchirion chimed in, “Forgive Father, Eomer. He absolutely dotes on our dear sister, and would not know how to manage without her. He will be hard pressed to share her with any man, even in marriage.”

The others chuckled nervously and Eomer responded, “Alas, I was only jesting. I know full well Imrahil would never allow me to steal away his precious daughter. I am sure she must prove equally useful to him.”

Despite the pleasant banter, however, Faramir noted there still lingered a tinge of tenseness. He had always been good at reading situations and men, and there was far more going on here than the spoken words had revealed. Clearly there was much to discuss privately with his cousins during their visit. In the meantime, he turned the conversation to other, safer topics and the relaxed feel eventually returned to their company before they were summoned to supper.

Over the next few days, Faramir and the men frequently rode out to show Eomer the surrounding country, and even to do a bit of hunting. Lothiriel was content to be out of a saddle, and ease her aching bones and muscles for a time before they continued on to Minas Tirith. Eowyn knew well that it was best to keep moving, and even ride a little, while overcoming her discomfort, so she made it her project to keep Lothiriel busy in ways that her muscles would be used, but not excessively. If the girl sat still too long and stiffened up, they might never get her back in the saddle when the time came.

Progress had been made on laying out Eowyn’s garden, and Lothiriel gladly worked with her getting plants in the ground and preparing the soil for further plantings.

Faramir had made Eowyn aware of the somewhat tense exchange that had taken place after Eomer’s idle comment about Lothiriel, so she took occasion to chat with the girl and learn what she could of the situation. Eventually, Lothiriel confessed to her what she had been doing, but admonished her not to make it generally known as her father might not approve.

When Eowyn related Eomer’s comment about kidnapping her and Imrahil’s reaction, Lothiriel sighed. “I know. Father is torn. He knows I must marry and leave home one day, but he fears that day tremendously. I very much suspect that is the real reason I have not been allied with some man yet. I am certain there have been offers made, but he has rejected them all. Amrothos claims he finds some trivial reason to do so as an excuse not to part with me.” She paused, then looked sadly at her cousin’s wife. “I think in me he sees my mother, and losing me would mean losing her all over again. I would someday wish to marry and have a family of my own, but I confess I am reluctant to do so since I know it will break his heart when I go.”

Impulsively, Eowyn hugged the girl tightly. After a few moments, she declared, “Then we will just have to help him get used to the idea. You should not be held hostage to his memories.”

Lothiriel smiled wanly at her, but gave no response. She was torn on this matter – by what she wanted to do and what she did not want to do. How could she secure her own happiness at the expense of her father’s? Ever since the War ended, and she became aware of his struggle in the matter, the problem had gnawed at her, with no possible resolution evident.

xxxxx

The visitors had intended originally to stay only a few days and then move on to the White City, but Eomer was in no hurry to depart knowing that Gamulf was awaiting him in Minas Tirith. There it would not be so easy for Lothiriel to assist him, and he was determined to get in as many days of freedom as he could before then. He had sent word on to Minas Tirith, advising of the delay and claimed it was due to Lothiriel’s need for a longer recovery from the trip before attempting the next leg of their journey. Eomer had not consulted her about using her as an excuse, but he did not think she would truly mind as no one would think ill of her for such a thing.

Nevertheless, the day after sending the dispatch, he sought her out. It took a while to locate her, curled up on a bench in the unfinished garden, reading one of Faramir’s books. Not being one much content with just sitting, Eomer suggested they go for a walk and she readily agreed. They walked in silence for some time before Eomer confessed what he had done, using her as an excuse for lingering in Emyn Arnen.

She laughed at his sheepish expression. “So? I am still assisting you in eluding Lord Gamulf, am I?”

He chuckled and looked at the ground. Finally he shrugged. “I could think of no other reasonable excuse, and since he holds you in such high esteem, I thought he might be tolerant of that particular justification.”

Smiling, she took his arm as they continued moving down the path. “It is alright, Eomer. I do not mind. I did vow to help you escape your cage. And take heart, for I have been considering a few thoughts on what might be done once we reach Minas Tirith. I am not without knowledge and influence there as well, and if I enlist the aid of your sister, you just might be surprised at the havoc I can wreak on Gamulf’s plans for you!”

xx

Faramir found his wife at an upstairs window staring somberly at something. He moved up alongside her and followed her gaze, discovering Eomer and Lothiriel chatting in the garden. Slipping an arm around her waist he pressed his lips to her temple, murmuring, “What are your thoughts, my love?”

Eowyn sighed, searching for the right words. “I...I very much suspect that my brother may be falling in love with Lothiriel, but after what you have told me of Imrahil’s reaction, I am concerned that such a thing would damage their friendship and hurt my brother in more ways than one.”

Faramir exhaled a heavy sigh of his own, moving behind her to wrap his arms around her shoulders and lean his head against hers. “Aye. And I think Lothiriel could love him, also. But I think she knows how her father feels, and I am not sure she would ever challenge him on this. Erchirion and Amrothos both say they have tried nudging Imrahil to let her marry, and they even once suggested Eomer as a possibility, but he refused to discuss it with them. As much as he likes Eomer, he does not like any man so much as to want to give up his daughter to him.”

Eowyn turned in his arms and looked up at her husband. “Could you talk to Imrahil? You have a way of persuading people like no one else I know, and perhaps he would listen more to you than to his sons.”

Faramir smiled at her confidence in him. “I am not so sure even I could persuade him but, yes, I will see what I can do. I think there will be great unhappiness for many people if no one can get through to him.”

xx

Eomer could get used to living like this, he thought. Riding, hunting, being with friends and family – and not having to worry about an entire kingdom of problems.

Riding beside him, Eothain chuckled and the king looked over at him questioningly. “You are wrong,” Eothain commented, noticing the look he was being given.

“Wrong about what?” Eomer asked. Eothain had an annoying habit of seemingly reading his mind, likely born of all their years of friendship and then serving together in an eored.

“You think you would enjoy a quiet life such as this, but it would drive you mad ere long,” Eothain asserted.

Ignoring the fact that Eothain had again correctly determined his thoughts, he asked, “What makes you think that?”

“You are not a man of leisure, Eomer. You never have been. This idyllic existence might tempt you for a time, but soon you would want more of a challenge.”

“And worry, and problems, and annoying advice from just about everyone?” Eomer inquired, giving him a pointed look.

Eothain merely laughed. “Well, perhaps not the annoying advice, but you would be bored without all the rest. You just need to find a woman to stand at your side and ease your cares at the end of the day.”

“Fine words from a man who is not married,” the king observed.

“But _I_ am not king!” Eothain chuckled, digging his heels in his horse’s side and moving away.

They were nearing Faramir’s home after the day’s hunting. As the house came into view and he thought of his sister’s happy marriage to the Steward, he could not deny Eothain’s solution had merit. He would gladly welcome finding someone whom he could love, and who would love him in return as the other couple did. But meeting such was not so simple a matter anymore. If he had married when he was only Third Marshal, and never expected to ascend to the throne of Rohan, he would have had a better chance of wooing such a lady. But as king, he now faced the constant challenge of finding love rather than merely fulfilling his duty to find a bride and produce an heir. 

His advisers were more interested in political or social advantage as the result of his marital alliance. They were not overly concerned about the king’s personal feelings. Already they had been putting forth names of women they considered ‘good choices’ within Rohan, and he knew some of them had been seeking information on eligible women in other lands by which a political union might be formed. Love was nowhere on their list of requirements for the lady.

Ever since he was made king a year ago, it had become clear that women now viewed him as a desirable prize to be won. He knew he was not an unattractive man, and had never suffered for female attention, but now the look in their eyes was that of hunters after prey. They were pleased his looks were appealing, but they were not particularly interested in knowing anything else about him. He was a king, and therefore a good catch. Elessar had been fortunate in being allowed to marry the woman of his choice and avoiding such a thing. Eomer doubted he would be so lucky.

His good mood of earlier had evaporated. And if the morose musings Eothain had spawned with his conversation were not sufficiently bad, he knew he could not delay much longer departing for Minas Tirith. Once there, he would again be at the mercy of Lord Gamulf – well, unless Lothiriel had her way, that is.

At the thought of the lady, he could not restrain a grin. She had claimed to be thinking of ways to help him at Mundburg, and he had learned what a mistake it was to underestimate her. _Lothiriel._ Now that he thought about it, no one had ever suggested a marriage alliance with Dol Amroth through her. As the daughter of a prince, and technically of a separate land from Gondor, he might have expected her to be first on most lists presented to him, and yet she was not. Ironically, at the moment, she was the only woman he could think of that he might not object to wedding. But her father’s response to his admiring comment when they first arrived did not suggest Imrahil would accept any suit he might offer.

Eomer sighed. Why did things have to be so complicated?

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

They had stalled as long as they could, and the group was at last on their way to Minas Tirith. Both Faramir and Eowyn accompanied them, since Faramir had business with the king also and Eowyn wanted to spend as much time with her brother as she could before he returned home.

Despite considerations that they take two days for the trip, Lothiriel had assured them she preferred to press on and get it over with rather than dragging it out. She was weary, and likely sore yet again, but grateful to not be faced with more riding once she had dismounted at the end of the day.

Predictably, Lord Gamulf hastened to greet them as soon as they arrived, but Eowyn had sent word on ahead to Queen Arwen of the situation regarding Eomer’s adviser, and the Elf-woman was a ready co-conspirator with Eowyn and Lothiriel. Eomer was immediately whisked away by the king while everyone else settled in, and Gamulf was forced to wait for another attempt to corner his monarch. What he did not realize was that the three women were rather enjoying the idea of playing cat-and-mouse with him, and each had been thinking up ways to run interference in Eomer’s behalf.

With her knowledge of the Steward’s residence, Lothiriel had arranged for Gamulf to be put in a guest room there, explaining she did not know the new king of Gondor well enough to impose on him with an unexpected guest. As a visiting king, however, Elessar had naturally housed Eomer in the King’s House. While somewhat annoyed by the need for these arrangements, Eowyn understood the problem, and she had spent enough time in Minas Tirith to get around easily and quickly, so she felt certain she could still see a good deal of her brother.

Their arrival in late afternoon left little time for much before supper. Elessar kept it simple, including only the traveling party and, reluctantly, Gamulf. Arwen’s seating arrangements, however, left the two men quite a distance apart, and when the meal seemed to be concluding, Arwen spirited Eomer away on some pretense before Gamulf could lay claim to him. When she returned alone, and he inquired after the king, he was told that Eomer had mentioned being weary and presumably retired for the evening.

Had King Elessar not made it plain that he would brook no talk of business on this occasion, Gamulf might have lingered, but instead he excused himself and returned to his room to prepare his reports for the king. Once he was definitely gone, Arwen dispatched a servant and Eomer miraculously reappeared, apparently having changed his mind about turning in.

Over the next few days, since Gondor’s king did not invite him into any of his meetings with Eomer, Gamulf was unable to gain the access he desired. However, Faramir, getting into the spirit of things, organized a barrage of meetings for the man, with just about every pompous nobleman in the city. So, for the next week, Eomer saw little of his chief adviser during the daytime hours.

Evenings were trickier, but Lothiriel and her brothers had become acquainted with numerous back stairways and concealed servants entrances throughout the Steward’s house and the King’s house, courtesy of their cousins, so that with only a little effort, an alternate route could be taken when necessary. Still, meals and feasts were problematic. The truly amazing thing about Lord Gamulf was his steadfast focus on work regardless of the setting, and he never appeared to notice that not everyone shared his enthusiasm for political and economic discussions in all their social gatherings.

At least at the society get-togethers, Eomer had dancing to fall back on as an escape from a dull conversation, not to mention his feeling ‘obligated’ to visit around the room rather than limit himself to a single group. There was no dearth of ladies who wished to dance with the handsome king, though most were so empty-headed and vain he found their company almost as wearing as Gamulf’s was.

Working in his favor, though, was Lothiriel of Dol Amroth. She seemed to have an almost innate sense of when he had about reached his tolerance limit. When that happened, she would suddenly appear at his side, smile disarmingly and before he knew it they were on the dance floor. Half the time he wasn’t even certain he had asked her to dance, but when she put in appearance, he seemed to assume she was there to rescue him. On the worst evenings, she even managed to help him slip out a side exit and get a bit of fresh air in a garden behind the Hall of Feasts.

After three nights of this, he made it a point to thank her again for all she had done to help him. With a grin, he added, “You did not exaggerate your influence, even in Mundburg!”

Her puzzled expression made him laugh. “Sorry! Minas Tirith. In Rohan, we call this place Mundburg.”

She smiled in comprehension. “I told you I was committed to freeing you. I did not make that promise lightly, my lord!”

He groaned. “Please, call me Eomer. I am sick to death of ‘my lord’ everywhere I go. Or even worse, ‘your majesty’.” He sighed. “Some days I truly do wish I could go back to just being ‘Eomer’, or even ‘Third Marshal Eomer’.”

Lothiriel nodded understandingly, then shrugged. “We are who we are, Eomer. Wishing will not change that. But that is not to say we cannot make the best of our situation, such as we are doing now.”

Chuckling, he answered, “I suppose so. Certainly walking in a garden in the moonlight with a lovely lady is better than enduring Gamulf, or most of the Gondorian nobility either, for that matter. I cannot rue the day I met you.”

At his words, she blushed, finally only murmuring, “Thank you.”

He turned to look at her, smiling fondly, but his breath caught in his throat. How had he never noticed how lovely she was, and so very different than the women on the prowl inside the feast hall? She was completely guileless, despite her royal heritage, and suddenly it pained him to think Imrahil would marry her off some day to one of those simpering nobles or their sons. Or worse yet, he thought, recalling Imrahil’s behavior at Emyn Arnen, would be so protective he never let her go to find a life of her own.

He had become lost in his thoughts, and though he was essentially staring at her, she kept silent and did not press him to talk. The moonlight on her dark hair gave it a silvery appearance, and her face was lit just enough to see her gentle eyes and smiling lips. His stomach lurched at the sight. Suddenly he very much wanted to taste those lips.

His hands came up to her shoulders as he took a step toward her. There was nothing but trust in her countenance, and he was not even certain she yet realized the effect she was having on him, or what he was intending to do. Watching carefully for any sign of reticence, his hands slipped around to her back and pulled her closer into his embrace as he lowered his mouth to hers. Just before he brushed his lips lightly over hers, he saw surprise in her eyes, but no reluctance. Instead, her hands had come up to his hips and that was sufficient encouragement for him to kiss her again, more firmly and lingeringly than before, and tentatively she responded.

To his very great annoyance, the moment was interrupted. A voice called out, “Eomer?” He knew that voice all too well; it was his sister, and she would not simply go away if he chose not to answer.

“Yes, Eowyn?” he called, taking a step away from Lothiriel and releasing her.

Following the sound of his voice in the darkness, Eowyn approached, giving no indication whether or not she had seen them kissing. “Prince Imrahil is looking for Lothiriel. I believe he wishes to retire for the night and expects her to do the same.”

In a rather husky voice, Lothiriel commented, “It would seem you will have to fend for yourself if you wish to remain at the feast longer, my lord.”

He was disappointed. Why had she so readily reverted to formality with him? So Eowyn would not suspect what they had been doing? Force of habit? Either way, it was not the response he would have liked. She had seemed to enjoy the kiss when it was happening, but now he was not so certain.

Pulling his attention back to the two women in front of him, he offered each an arm and silently guided them back inside.

xxxxx

Eomer lay awake a long while that night, reflecting on what had happened in the garden. He wasn’t entirely sure why Lothiriel’s indifferent response had shaken him so much. He wasn’t so arrogant as to expect every woman to fall at his feet, but…she HAD seemed to enjoy the kiss. That was what he found so confusing. Did she not understand what it meant? Was she truly that naïve? Or did she find it pleasant, but still had no feelings for him, and so had dismissed it as unimportant? And, for that matter, what had it meant? 

Until that moment in the moonlight, he had never looked at her with any kind of passion. He was not certain but what he hadn’t even subconsciously been thinking of her as a sister. When their lips had met, he knew he had crossed over some sort of line and there was no going back. Even now, just lying here and thinking about her, he wanted her in his arms. He wanted to kiss her again…oh, did he want to kiss her again! And nothing so chaste and polite as he had done this evening.

Imrahil’s words to him at Emyn Arnen, came back to him now. What did that mean? Should he just go back to Rohan and forget about a doe-eyed lady with a lilting laugh, or should he.… He rubbed his hand wearily over his face. He would find no answers tonight. The first thing he needed to do was talk to Lothiriel. Unless she was feeling the same sort of things he was, perhaps it was pointless to even be worrying about this. Imrahil certainly wasn’t likely to give her up to Eomer if she did not wish it. Only if she loved him also could he hope to make her his wife.

_Wife!_ Eomer sat bolt upright in bed. Where had that thought come from? He’d only kissed her once, for pity’s sake! But even as he acknowledged that fact, he could not deny that he _did_ want to claim Lothiriel as his wife. She had made him feel alive again, after too long of feeling like one of the walking dead. She made him laugh and smile and, for a very brief time, forget all his troubles. Wasn’t that what Eothain had said? Someone to stand beside him and make him forget his cares at the end of the day?

Slowly he laid back down, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness. Yes, clearly he needed to talk to Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, and see if they were in agreement about what they wanted.

xxxxx

Having missed out on sleep the night before, Eomer would have expected to be in a foul mood the next morning, but it was not so. He was eager to find Lothiriel and discuss things with her. His cheerful disposition rapidly deteriorated, starting over breakfast. Elessar had already scheduled several meetings for that day. He was on the verge of begging off, asking his friend to postpone things for a time, when Elessar’s chamberlain announced the arrival of the first group to be met with.

It went downhill from there. He was swept from meeting to meeting, and kept so busy there was little time to think, much less get Aragorn aside and plead his cause.

By the time supper was served that night, Eomer was straining at the bit in his eagerness to at last see Lothiriel and find a few moments to speak with her.

Every time he tried to make his way over to her during the course of the evening, however, someone waylaid him and she was lost to sight. Just as he would locate her once more and start in that direction, another interruption would occur.

Finally – finally – he managed to reach her side and suggest they go for a walk in the garden, right as the feast was winding down and most celebrants departing. Just as they approached the garden gate, however, a voice behind them called out, “Eomer, Lothiriel? Would you come inside, please. I must speak with Eomer in private.”

It was Imrahil, and Eomer thought it wise to comply with the request, given the circumstances. Lothiriel gave him a warm, unsuspecting smile and returned to the feast hall to say her goodnights before retiring, while Eomer and her father adjourned to a small antechamber. 

As Eomer closed the door and turned toward his friend, the Prince got straight to the point.

“Stay away from my daughter, Eomer,” Imrahil growled threateningly. “She is not for you. She belongs in Gondor with her family, not off in Rohan.”

Eomer’s jaw tightened. “Imrahil, I assure you I have done nothing inappropriate with your daughter.”

“That is not the point! The point is she belongs here. I do not want her tempted to have feelings for you, and we both know that women find you attractive. She is too young and too inexperienced to know any better. Therefore, it is up to me to protect her. This is my final word on the matter!” With that, he turned abruptly on his heel and strode out.

Eomer watched him with narrowed eyes, then angrily kicked a nearby chair, inflicting more injury on his foot than the furniture. He paced agitatedly back and forth across the floor for some time, trying to think of a resolution to this problem, but was too angry for clear thought. At last, he hastened from the room and went to find Eothain. It was evident that his friend was just turning in for the night, but he ignored that as he instructed, “We leave at first light. Have the men packed and ready to go. I will notify Lord Gamulf, if he wishes to accompany us.”

Before Eothain could question him on this sudden decision, Eomer was halfway down the hall. Something was greatly amiss here, but he doubted he would get any answers tonight. Reluctantly he pulled his clothes back on, and made his way to inform the men.

Lothiriel was up very early the next morning, and was therefore startled to find Lord Gamulf making his way down the hall behind two servants carrying his belongings. “Lord Gamulf? You are leaving us?” she asked with surprise.

He looked ill at ease as he replied, “Yes. I received word from the king late last night that we would be departing this morning at first light. I am unsure why the sudden change in plans. I had not thought he intended to return for at least another week.”

_Eomer was leaving? Why had he said nothing to her, even to say goodbye?_ This seemed most peculiar. “May I walk you out and see you off?” she offered, though he was hardly the reason for the question.

Graciously he accepted her company, and they made for the front entrance.

Just after dawn, Eomer appeared in the courtyard where the Rohirrim were gathered awaiting him. He came to a stop by Eothain, his face still a mask of anger, and asked curtly, “Are we ready?”

Eothain nodded. “We only await Lord Gamulf. He should be joining us momentarily.” There was a pause, and then Eothain ventured, “You have said your goodbyes, then, to King Elessar and to the Prince and his family?”

If anything, Eomer’s face became more rigid and his glower intensified. “I sent word to Elessar that we would be leaving. He will see that it is made known.”

Not a direct answer to his question, but one that made evident a possible reason for this sudden exit from Minas Tirith. If Eothain wasn’t very much mistaken, this had something to do with Imrahil...and, therefore, possibly Lothiriel also.

At that moment, Lord Gamulf put in appearance from the direction of the Steward’s house, accompanied by said lady, and Eothain snuck a glance at his king. It was clear that Eomer had not expected to see her before leaving, and did not want to do so. Eothain stepped forward, nodding to Lothiriel as he steered Gamulf to his horse and the servants to where his baggage would be packed.

Lothiriel made a mental note to thank the soldier, but for the moment, her attention was focused on Eomer, who would not meet her gaze. Stepping up to him, she asked softly, “Is this how you would take your leave of me? Sneaking away without saying goodbye?”

For just an instant, some emotion flitted over his features, but then they returned to their clouded state as he finally looked at her. “It was unavoidable. Something has come up that requires my immediate departure.”

It was plain that he did not intend to elaborate further, and Lothiriel quelled the pain fighting to rise in her chest and the tears that pricked her eyes. Forcing a bright smile, she nodded. “Of course, my lord. I wish you safe journey.” She gave a polite curtsy and moved away from him.

Eomer was startled by her reaction, though he could not think why he hadn’t expected her to behave with utter decorum. “Lothiriel...” he started, then checked himself. Thinking better of it, he altered course and only said, “Goodbye. Thank you for all you did for me while I was visiting.”

It was said in the politest manner, concealing any shade of feeling that might exist behind the words. She responded in kind. “You are most welcome, my lord. It was an honor to be of service to Rohan’s king.”

For some reason, her words stung him, and Eomer turned abruptly away to mount his horse. Moments later, the company rode out and Lothiriel stood alone on the steps of the Citadel watching them go. She was still there long after they were gone from sight, and that is where Faramir found her a short time later.

“Thiri? What has happened? A servant just told me Eomer’s party has left.”

She nodded resolutely. “It is true. I do not know their reason. Eomer said only that something had come up that required it. He would not explain further.”

Faramir didn’t miss the toneless quality of her voice as she relayed this information. Something was dreadfully wrong here. He reached for her, but she stepped hastily away from him before she could no longer check the tears. “I will see you at breakfast, cousin.” She strode rapidly away from him and, for the moment, Faramir thought perhaps it was better to leave her alone.

From an upstairs window of the king’s quarters, Elessar watched the proceedings in the courtyard below with an unreadable expression. Eomer had left a note with his valet last night, but the man had suspected it might be sufficiently important to make Elessar aware of it sooner rather than later. The note gave no real reason for Eomer’s abrupt leaving, but watching the young king just now with Lothiriel and their stiff manner, he very much suspected that it somehow was connected with her. What had happened to alter the situation so suddenly? He had observed them many times since their arrival from Emyn Arnen, and there was little doubt in his mind that the two of them cared for each other, possibly even loved one another. If that was so, then why would.... _Imrahil._ That was the only reasonable answer. More and more he had seen the Prince watching the couple together, but he had attributed the look in his eyes to being nothing more than fatherly concern for a daughter. There must be more to it than that. Perhaps it was time for him to involve himself in the matter. But first he needed more information....

_TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I don't know how I'm supposed to focus on posting a new chapter when I've got a hummingbird flitting around outside my window! Ah, the simple pleasures in life!_

**Chapter 6**

There was more than a little uproar going on at various places in the upper levels of Minas Tirith. When Lothiriel left Faramir, she was not aware of any place in particular that she was going, but found she ended up in the garden behind the feast hall. That early in the morning there was no one around, and she stumbled in as the tears began to slip down her cheeks.

A circular bench had been built around a tree in the back recesses of the garden, and she had always enjoyed its solitude. That was where she went now, her head leaning against the tree as she wept. In truth, she was not entirely certain why she was crying. Of course she was sad to see Eomer leave, as they had become rather good friends during his visit, but.... Wiping at her damp cheeks, she gave a sigh. No, that was not entirely true.

Eomer had been handsome and charming and larger than life. And without either of them realizing it, he had completely captivated her. She had thought she so diligently aided him in having a good time during his stay in Dol Amroth because she wanted to be a good hostess. But if she was perfectly honest with herself, her feelings ran far deeper than that. Every laugh, every smile he had expressed had sent a thrill through her, and fed in her the desire to give him cause for more such expressions. He had consumed her thoughts both day and night, and looking back she could see how many things she had done just because she knew it would please him.

Then when he had kissed her, in this very garden, she had dared hope that he might care for her in return. So, why then, two days later, had he suddenly ridden away with no intent to even say goodbye to her? Had she somehow disappointed him? Had he decided her too young and innocent to hold his interest? Had the kiss been merely a reward for all her help, with no real feeling or meaning behind it?

More tears escaped at that thought. Yes, she _was_ young, and foolish, but she had not thought that mattered to him. Apparently she had been mistaken. She had been mistaken about a great many things. Numbly, she sat trying not to think or feel or care. He was gone, and she would return home to whatever fate brought her. There was no comfort in that thought.

xx

Faramir had immediately sought his wife. As it turned out, by the time he reached her, she was dressed and had already learned of her brother’s abrupt exit from the city. She met him in the hall, and he caught her elbow, guiding her to the privacy of his study.

“Faramir? What is going on? Eomer’s note said little about why he has done this, about why he did not even come to farewell his sister.”

Faramir rubbed the back of his neck, and sighed. “I am not sure. I do not believe he told Lothiriel of his plans, and when she accidentally found out and went to see him before he left, he would not say why he was leaving.” He sat down heavily in the chair at his desk. “She was devastated, Eowyn. She would not say so, but I saw it in her face.”

Eowyn moved behind him and encircled his neck with her arms, kissing his head. But she had little comfort she could offer him. This was as she had feared, and all evidence suggested Eomer’s leaving was connected to Lothiriel in some way.

At length, Faramir arose decisively. “I will ask around and see what I can learn. I cannot believe he left without saying anything to anyone. At the very least, he would have said something to the king. Perhaps we can piece together more information if we talk to the others.” He looked down at her. “After breakfast, see if you can get my cousins alone and find out what they know. I...do not recommend speaking with my uncle just yet. I am very much afraid this may have something to do with him.”

As it turned out, neither Imrahil nor Lothiriel came for the morning meal. Erchirion looked up as Amrothos entered the room, surprised since his youngest brother was usually the last to put in appearance for the first meal of the day.

With some concern, he asked, “Where are Father and Lothiriel? Are they unwell?”

Amrothos flung himself irritatedly into a chair. “Not exactly.”

Both Eowyn and Erchirion watched him, waiting for him to continue.

Scowling at the table, he finally told them, “Last night, as the party was dispersing, Eomer and Lothiriel were headed out to the garden and Father followed. A moment later, Lothiriel returned to say goodnight, but Father and Eomer went off to another room. I do not know their conversation, but I can guess. They were only in there briefly before Father stormed out. A while later, Eomer left also, and obviously furious.”

Erchirion closed his eyes in discouragement, adding, “And Eomer left Minas Tirith this morning.”

Eowyn hadn’t realized he knew about that, and it was clear his brother hadn’t. “What?” Amrothos exclaimed. “Oh, Father, what have you done?”

The two lapsed into a morose silence while Eowyn contemplated this new information. Finally, she offered, “There is more.” Both looked up at her with a bit of trepidation.

“Lothiriel was up early enough to happen upon Eomer before he departed. He would not tell her his reason for leaving, but when Faramir found her a short time later, he could tell she was distraught by the course of events,” Eowyn explained.

Erchirion’s jaw tightened. “Where is she now?”

Eowyn shook her head. “I do not know. I suspect she has gone somewhere to be alone – and cry.”

Amrothos slammed a hand down on the table, startling the others enough to make them jump. “How can Father do this to them?” he asked angrily. “Eomer is a good man, and I am convinced they care about each other! We cannot let this happen!”

Wearily Erchirion answered, “We have tried, Amrothos. He will not listen to us, or to Elphir. And she cannot marry without his consent.”

Amrothos stood so suddenly his chair slammed over backwards behind him. “Then we will try again, and again, and again. We will keep trying until he gives in. He cannot do this to her, Erchirion. It is not right.”

Quietly Eowyn interjected, “You are not alone in this. Faramir is trying to see what he can learn also. He believes if Eomer told anyone much about his departure that it was the king. Perhaps at dinner we will be able to find out more, once Faramir has had a chance to speak with Elessar.”

Though they were not certain why, Imrahil kept to his room virtually the entire day, having servants bring him food there. He at last put in appearance shortly before they were due to join the king for supper. It surprised him to discover the table laid for a meal at home, and when they were all seated, Faramir explained, “Elessar cancelled the feast tonight. There seemed little point now that Eomer is gone.”

Imrahil’s hand paused as he was raising a wine goblet to his mouth, not having known this before about the King of Rohan’s departure. “It is for the best,” he murmured impassively, taking a sip and turning his attention to his plate.

With the exception of Lothiriel, the others cast glances at one another, more convinced than ever that Imrahil had had a hand in that departure.

Lothiriel kept her eyes focused on the table, and pushed a few morsels of food around her plate but showed little inclination to actually eat anything. Before everyone else finished the tense meal, she excused herself, pleading a headache, and went to her room. If Imrahil noticed the dispirited demeanor of his daughter, he gave no indication, and left the table soon afterwards himself.

xxxxx

Not long after supper, Eomer disappeared into his tent and the men began settling in for the night a short time later. Once most of the camp was silent, Eothain made his way to the king’s tent and the guards announced him. Eomer’s grunt was hardly an invitation to enter, but Eothain stepped inside anyway.

Eomer was sitting by the small fire pit in the middle of the room, staring at the embers that were slowly dying out. Eothain dropped down beside him in silence and mimicked his posture for several moments. At length, he asked, “Why, Eomer?”

At first, the king ignored him, then gruffly responded, “Why, what?”

“Why, for pity’s sake, are you sitting here when Lothiriel is in Minas Tirith and that is where you want to be?” Eothain queried bluntly. He had known Eomer far too long to bother with niceties.

Rising and moving away from him, Eomer replied, “None of your business.”

Eothain stood as well. “Then I am making it my business, you oaf. Whatever happened back there, _do_ something about it! Make it right, whatever it takes! I have never known you to slink away in such a cowardly manner!”

Eomer wheeled on him and hissed, “If you were anyone else I would hit you!”

“If _you_ were anyone else,” Eothain retorted, “I would have already hit you, and tried to knock some sense into you! The Third Marshal I served with would not have given up so easily on the woman he loved!”

Angrily Eomer turned away, all too aware of the truth in Eothain’s words. Never before had he run from a fight.

“You do not know what you are talking about,” he mumbled.

“ _Why_ will you not fight for her?” Eothain demanded. “I _know_ you love her!”

“Because!” Eomer exclaimed vehemently. “Because I do not know if she even _wants_ me to fight for her. I could challenge her father only to have her reject me! Yes, I have kissed her – once. She seemed to enjoy it, but that proves nothing. She has been charming and helpful, but she is the daughter of a Prince. She has been well schooled in courtesy and diplomacy toward foreign dignitaries, so _that_ proves nothing. She has done _nothing_ to suggest she harbors any fond feelings for me, and Imrahil has made it plain that he would not have me as her husband. I will not fight for a woman that I do not know if she loves me! Is that what you want to hear?” Eomer stood glaring at his friend, slightly out of breath, his fists balled at his sides.

For an instant, Eothain just blinked at him in surprise, then as the words registered, he replied, “Oh, for pity’s sake!”

The next thing Eomer knew he was sitting on the ground rubbing his jaw, and Eothain was rubbing his knuckles. The two glared at one another for several minutes, and then the fire went out of Eothain’s eyes as he flopped down next to his friend.

“Eomer, I have seen the two of you together. There _is_ something there. Both of you are drawn to each other, and I am certain – absolutely certain – that the lady cares for you. And you care for her – you love her. How can you just quietly slink back to Rohan and leave her in Gondor? If you do this, you will regret it all your days. Throw me in the dungeon for striking you, and let me rot there, but _listen_ to me now. You _must_ go back to Minas Tirith, and do whatever it takes to convince Imrahil to let you wed her.”

The king shifted his position, and rested his elbows on his raised knees while he considered Eothain’s words. Lothiriel _did_ care about him, of that he felt sure, but would she go against her father’s wishes if Imrahil refused his consent? And what of Elessar? How would this affect their relationship if Imrahil and Eomer became at odds over it? He couldn’t very well steal her away to Rohan, nor would he do anything to dishonor her and force Imrahil to allow their union via that avenue, which meant that Imrahil must be persuaded to agree. But how? 

Lothiriel’s face came into his mind and he could not stifle a smile at the thought. Perhaps she had not said it in so many words, but Eothain was right. She did care for him. Her efforts in his behalf had gone far beyond what any sense of duty should have dictated. It had simply brought her pleasure to see him happy; that had been all the reason she needed. Eothain was right about another thing also – he _would_ regret it all of his days if he didn’t fight for her love. Perhaps it was doomed to failure, but he had to try.

Rising suddenly, he told Eothain, “Gather six men to ride with us. And send Garod to me. I will have him take the remainder on to Edoras. If we are not riding under the king’s banner, we should be safe enough along the road without the full escort.”

Eothain stood and nodded, a slow grin spreading over his face. _This_ was the Eomer he knew so well. “When do we ride?” he asked, suspecting the answer.

“We leave within the hour. Take care not to wake the camp as we prepare,” Eomer instructed.

_TBC_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And, so, we reach the finale. Hope you have enjoyed this tale. On Sat., I'll post a one-shot called "Relief", and then next Wed. I will begin posting a new 7-chapter story called "Convenience"._

**Chapter 7**

The guard closed the door behind Imrahil as he politely acknowledged his king. “Elessar, you wished to see me?”

Elessar smiled gently at the man and nodded. “Yes. I confess I have been lost in my memories a bit of late, and thought perhaps you would be so kind as to indulge in a little reminiscing with me. There are few around who still remember Thorongil and his time in Minas Tirith.”

The two men chuckled together. “Indeed, I do remember. I rather looked upon you as a hero then.”

“But not anymore?” the king queried in amusement.

Imrahil blushed slightly, and amended, “I respect you in a much different manner these days, for I better understand life now. But, yes, I would have to say I still consider you a hero.”

Elessar bowed his head modestly, not having intended to fish for compliments. “You well know I am just a man, doing the best he knows how in difficult circumstances. If I am a hero, then I am one among many.”

Imrahil nodded in agreement. “True.” They were silent a moment before he ventured, “And what direction were your reminisces taking, my friend?”

Elessar rose and moved to the window, staring out over the Pelennor. “Truthfully, I was remembering your lovely wife.” Grinning teasingly, he added, “You were a fortunate man to win her heart. There were many who admired her!”

Imrahil smiled in fond remembrance. “Aye! And I felt my good fortune, I assure you. Hardly a day went by that I was not in awe of the fact that she had chosen me.” He slid into his bittersweet memories, and for a time Elessar did not speak further.

At length, the king observed, “Lothiriel reminds me of her a great deal. The same gentle manner, the same quiet strength, and of course the same dark beauty.”

The Prince smiled indulgently. “That is for certain! I see so much of her mother in her. At times, it is almost like having my dear wife back with me again.”

Unwittingly he had wandered in precisely the direction Elessar intended. Turning to face the younger man, the king said quietly, “It is my belief that your daughter may have found a love such as you and your wife knew – in Eomer.”

Imrahil stiffened at the comment, but Elessar pressed on, “My old friend, please, hear me. I have spoken with several people who have seen them together. All believe that love has grown between them in the time of their acquaintance. I know it will be difficult for you to part with her, especially to a land so distant as Rohan, but would you truly wish to deny her the happiness you yourself were blessed with in marriage?”

The Prince rubbed a weary hand over his face and sighed. “No. I would never wish to do that.” His whole frame slumped in discouragement. “But how can I give her up?”

Elessar came and stood before him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “It will be hard, and painful, but _you_ also are a hero, my friend. I cannot imagine you would sacrifice your daughter’s happiness for your own selfishness. Keeping her at Dol Amroth will not bring your beloved wife back.”

Imrahil’s shoulders shook with sobs, and Elessar’s hand gripped more firmly. “What have I done?” he moaned mournfully.

“You did what you thought was right, at the time, but now that you see things more clearly, you will do what any loving father would do. You will make it right. It is not too late. I am sure Eomer was upset with you, but I know him too well to believe he will simply give up. If he truly loves her, he will return.”

Almost as if in fulfillment of a prophecy, a knock sounded at the door. When Elessar summoned the guard, he announced, “King Eomer of Rohan to see you, my lord.”

A small smile creased Elessar’s face. “Sooner than I expected,” he murmured, “but then he has never been patient.”

Looking down at the Prince, he asked, “Shall I see him elsewhere and give you time to compose yourself, or would you speak with him now?”

xx

Faramir had been one of the first to learn that Eomer had returned to Minas Tirith. Not certain the meaning of this odd behavior, he felt sure that Lothiriel needed to know, and sent a servant straight away to tell her.

Lothiriel reached the courtyard of the Citadel only moments after the king had dismounted and gone inside. She glanced at Eothain who sat holding the reins of Eomer’s horse. The soldier gave her a smile and barely perceptible nod. While not entirely understanding what he meant by it, for some reason it gave her hope, and she dashed inside to follow Rohan’s king.

She skidded to a halt when she reached the hallway outside Elessar’s study, her gaze fixed on Eomer waiting there to be admitted. Softly she called questioningly, “Eomer?” Normally, he might not even have heard her, but the stone walls magnified the slight sound and he turned toward it.

Both stood unmoving and staring, not sure what to say or do. Just then the door to the study opened and Elessar welcomed Eomer in. When the young king did not immediately respond, Elessar’s gaze followed his and a satisfied smile lit his face. “Lady Lothiriel. Will you join us, please?”

Pulling herself from her stupor, she nodded, acknowledging the request, and slowly moved toward the two men. They stepped aside to allow her to precede them into the room.

Lothiriel was not expecting to find her father there as well, and moved away from the door, glancing curiously among the three of them, wondering what was happening.

The men also did not seem to know quite where to begin and shifted uneasily, though Elessar least of all. Seeing that someone had to open this discussion, he turned to Eomer and said, “You left us without warning, my friend, and now you return with equal suddenness. I am not sure everyone in this room understands why that is so.” His glance swept over Lothiriel, then back to Imrahil and Eomer.

Nervously, Imrahil cleared his throat. “He left because…because I told him to stay away from Lothiriel.”

Lothiriel’s eyes grew wide at this revelation and she softly exclaimed, “Father!”

Imrahil could not meet her gaze and stared shame-facedly at the floor.

“If that is why you left, Eomer, then why did you return so soon after?” Elessar prompted, more to spur conversation than to gain needed knowledge. He could readily guess the reason.

Eomer’s jaw tightened and he leveled his gaze on the Prince. “I have come back to persuade Imrahil to change his mind. I would have Lothiriel for my wife.” He winced slightly inwardly; that had been rather blunt, but he preferred being straightforward and direct.

By now, Lothiriel was blinking in astonishment at this new information. She had thought this whole matter was merely between her and Eomer, but now it was clear there was much more going on.

Gently, Elessar asked, “And what of you, Lothiriel? What do you want?”

She stared back and forth between these two men that she loved so dearly. How could she ever choose to go with one and leave the other miserable? With a muffled gasp, trying to hold in her tears, she bolted out of the room. She crashed blindly into the guard outside the door, who was so solid she would have been knocked off her feet had he not reached out and steadied her. Pulling frantically away, she tore off down the hall.

Behind her, Eomer started toward the door, but Elessar called him back, “Eomer, let her go.”

Mutinously, he turned to the other man, a glare on his features. “That I cannot do!”

“Eomer,” Imrahil interrupted, “we must talk first. For the moment, there is nothing you can say to her that will help.”

Rohan’s king eyed him suspiciously, waiting for an explanation. With a sigh, Imrahil sat down heavily in a chair. He raised a shaky hand to rub at his temple. “I have been a fool. I refused to see your feelings for each other, because I did not want to lose her. She is so dear to me – so much like her mother – I selfishly could not let go even when I knew I must.” He raised his eyes to the younger man. “I was wrong, Eomer, and I am sorry for the pain I have caused both of you. Elessar has reminded me of a few things I had forgotten.” With a sigh, he rose and moved to clap a hand on Eomer’s shoulder. “If Lothiriel agrees to it, I consent to your marriage.”

Eomer thought he should be ecstatic at these words, but the final comment made him pause – ‘if Lothiriel agrees’. _Would_ she agree, if she knew how much pain it would cause her father?

Imrahil seemed almost to read his thoughts. “I think I should speak with her before you do, my friend. I do not know that she will willingly come to you until she knows that I release her.”

Eomer’s tense stance relaxed, but he looked kindly at the other man. “I do not wish to deprive you of your daughter. I will make every effort to see to it that she visits you often. And you would always be welcome in Rohan, whenever you can come.”

The two men embraced, and then Imrahil stepped back. “Now then, if I am able to find my daughter, I think it is time for us to have a serious talk about her future.”

Clearing his throat, Eomer suggested, “You might want to check in the garden behind the Hall of Feasts. It is rarely used and she once commented that it is a favorite place of hers when she wishes to be alone.”

Imrahil smiled ruefully at this information. How ironic that in twenty-one years he had never known that about his daughter, and yet she had confided it to Eomer after knowing him only a month. He nodded his understanding and left them.

Eomer and Elessar stood awkwardly for a moment. Then Eomer firmly told him, “Thank you, Aragorn. I am not sure what part you have played in this, but I suspect that without your assistance there might not have been so happy an outcome.”

Elessar smiled warmly at him. “I was pleased to do whatever I could, and I realized there might be things I could say to Imrahil that no one else could.” He moved behind his desk and sat down. “So, shall I have a room prepared for you now that you have returned? I assume you plan on staying for…a while, at the very least.”

Eomer grinned and nodded. “Let me check with Eowyn. She might prefer having me stay with her this time. I managed to send Gamulf on home with the rest of my guards, so we will not have him to contend with this time.”

The king inclined his head in understanding. “Speak with Faramir when you know and he will arrange for whatever you wish.” Changing the subject rather abruptly, he gave his friend a mischievous smile, suggesting, “Since you will soon go to speak with your lady, perhaps you would like to leave your armor here for the time being? As I recall, armor is not very conducive to romantic interludes with lovely young ladies!”

They chuckled together and Elessar rose to assist him in unbuckling his gear. Once it was removed, Eomer ruefully looked down at his wrinkled, and somewhat dirty, clothing. “I am torn between seeing her as soon as possible and thinking she would prefer I take time to bathe and change!” he observed.

Elessar rubbed his chin, then volunteered, “I think, at the moment, she would prefer to see you as soon as possible – dirty or otherwise.”

They laughed again, and Eomer clapped a hand on Elessar’s arm before nodding and leaving the room.

xx

Eomer had been correct – Lothiriel was in the garden as he predicted. Imrahil heard her sobs before he actually saw her, and hastened to her side, gently taking her in his arms. “Oh, my dearest girl, what have I done?” he murmured, stroking her head, as he realized just how much misery she had endured because of his blindness. 

When at length her sobs eased and her tears ebbed, he pulled back to look into her face. “I was wrong, dearest. I should never have tried to keep the two of you apart. I will miss you greatly if you choose to marry him, but do not let your love and concern for me keep you from finding happiness with Eomer. Your mother would be very upset with me right now for my bad behavior through all of this!”

Despite her tears, Lothiriel could not stifle a laugh. She barely remembered her mother, though her brothers and father had spoken of her so often she sometimes wasn’t sure what was memory and what were things she had been told. “Are you sure, Papa? I do not wish to cause you more pain.”

“Papa? You have not called me that for ages!” he chuckled, then admitted, “It is good to hear it again.”

Firmly gripping her shoulders, he told her, “I am sure. I would not have you miss out on the kind of love your mother and I shared. One of the reasons I could not bring myself to arrange a marriage for you was the thought of binding you to a man that you did not love. I am very pleased that you have found someone you can feel deeply about – that greatly eases my heart in the matter.”

A sound off to the left drew their attention and they turned to see Eomer, trying to inobtrusively stay out of their way. Bringing a hand to his daughter’s head, Imrahil pulled her toward him and kissed her brow. “And now, dearest, I think there is someone else you need to have a long talk with, so I will leave you two alone.”

They rose and Imrahil moved slowly away from her toward the young king. As he drew near, Eomer met his gaze and Imrahil nodded in affirmation of his consent, then stepped past Eomer and left the garden.

To his amazement, Eomer suddenly felt awkward. He had always been so comfortable with Lothiriel that it had never occurred to him anything could change that. Now he found that he had just asked to marry a woman whom he had never told that he loved her. In all their dealings to this point, they had never spoken of their feelings for each other. He _believed_ they felt the same, but there was always the possibility that he was mistaken in her regard for him. Taking a deep breath, he stepped toward her. Either way, he wanted to know now whether or not she would have him.

Lothiriel eyed him nervously, unsure what to think, or do or say. Idly she noticed that his clothes were wrinkled and dirty, and he appeared to be tired. They had only left yesterday morning and now it was midday. Had he ridden through the night instead of sleeping?

Hesitantly, Eomer reached for her hand, and she watched him twine his fingers with hers. They both fixed their attention on their interlocked fingers rather than look at each other. Eomer frantically tried to think what to say to her, how to explain all that had happened, and all that he was feeling. He was not a man given to flowery, flattering speech. He could only speak what was in his heart. “Lothiriel, I love you.” He paused, then softly added, “I should like very much to have you for my wife, if you would wish it.”

When she did not answer, he could not keep from looking up at her. Her face was struggling with her emotions, and he raised a questioning eyebrow to encourage her response. Somewhat breathlessly, she murmured, “I love you, too, Eomer. I…I would very much wish to be your wife.” A tear slipped down her cheek, and he leaned over to kiss it away.

She pulled her hand from his grasp and slipped both arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. Eomer drew her close into his embrace. The feel of her in his arms was better than anything he had imagined. Silently he thanked Elessar for making him remove his armor before coming to her. And there was just one more thing that needed doing. Pulling back slightly from her, his hand moved to her face and lifted it so he could look in her eyes. With a slow smile, he lowered his mouth to claim hers; not the uncertain, mild kiss he had given her a few days ago, but one of longing and hunger and promises of things to come. He knew it was very likely that this was only the second real kiss she had ever received, and she had not much experience with such things, but she was a quick learner. In an instant she was responding warmly, seeking to tell him what words could not adequately convey.

A few moments later, they broke breathlessly apart and he chuckled. “Not bad, for a beginner,” he teased. “I cannot wait until you have had an opportunity to practice!”

She flushed red and hid her face, but he tilted it back up and kissed her again. As it ended, he murmured, “Do not be embarrassed, my love. I would be disappointed if you did not enjoy showing me affection. We Eorlingas are not so reserved as you Gondorians. I welcome your enthusiasm!”

She blushed again, but caught his face and kissed him this time, taking him at his word. 

As they drew apart, he rested his temple against hers and whispered, “It would appear Gamling may keep his position as Doorward. I have other plans for you!”

_THE END_

1-17-06 – 1-24-06

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _According to Tolkien, Thorongil (Aragorn) fought with Thengel and Ecthelion from 2957-2980. We know he was serving Thengel in 2957 and left Gondor's service in 2980. We don't know how many years he was in Rohan and how many he was in Gondor, but even if we assume only 5 years in Gondor, that puts him there from 2975-2980. Imrahil was born in 2955, which means he would have been 20-25 years old when Thorongil was in Gondor._


End file.
